today’s writing went out just before midnight last night
it was deemed a technical error
but in reality it was a human error
I hit the publish button by mistake
giving you all a big clue
that my daily writings are often written a day ahead
and scheduled to be published at a specific time
so no new writing today
sorry for the inconvenience
at least you know I am human and not some AI robot
I am seriously considering becoming a dictator
Not the autocratic leader of a nation kind
Having my spoken words put directly into writing kind of dictator
That will eliminate the tedious task of typing
Which I have never been any good at
Despite being welded to a keyboard for many decades
I have never mastered multi finger key stokes
Hunting and pecking with just two fingers
Always the index finger on my left hand
But my right hand uses my middle finger
I have never noticed that until now
There must be an explanation for it
Even more weird is that I use the side of my middle finger
As my right index finger points towards the screen
Reminds me of a china cup afternoon tea drinker
With their pinky finger delicately pointing skyward
I hope that my middle finger keystroke is not deemed to be rude typing
If it is then my left hand pleads not guilty
My right hand will reluctantly go to jail in disgrace
Anyway back to being a dictator
It will be so much faster to use speech to text software
I will be able to focus on the screen as the words pop up
Unlike now where I look mostly at the keyboard
Occasionally looking up to see the numerous spelling errors
Mostly due to my fat right middle finger pressing the wrong key
Perhaps dictating is not the right way to go though
Much better to enjoy the silence of writing
Than listen to my own voice babbling on and on
I am sure it would annoy everybody in listening range
I am hoping that AI will invent a device to read minds
Then I could plug one in and point it to my shiny head
Watch my random thoughts appear on the screen in prose
Lets go one step further where everybody gets a thought reader
With an added adaptor for thought transmission
Then you will receive my daily writing directly into your head as a thought
You can even leave thought comments on a virtual Cheeky Monkey page
Which you never have to log onto because you will just think about it
No need to have a computer or keyboard at all in the future
AI will become so advanced that it will be able to predict my thoughts
My writing will continue well after I am dead thanks to AI taking over
It will be ever so easy to authenticate it as my writing
You will spot the AI generated moddle fonger spelling mostakes
Yesterday afternoon I started to feel the beginnings of a cold, that scratchy throat feeling and sneezing. By the end of the day I felt tired, listless, aching all over and just wanted to sleep. I briefly thought about what I could write about in the morning and decided that my cold would be a good excuse to not write at all. When I woke up I still felt crappy from the cold but I was disappointed that I was so ready to use it as an excuse for not writing. I began to ask myself why do we use excuses. If you don’t want to take responsibility for something then you find an excuse to shift the blame. I was late because of the traffic, bad weather caused everybody to drive slow, there were too many red lights…. we have all used these excuses. By shifting the blame onto others or the circumstances we miss a great opportunity to take ownership of our actions and learn from our mistakes. I failed to take account of the weather when calculating my commute time is stating the reason and identifying what you could have done to avoid being late. When I woke up this morning my first thought was to use my cold as an excuse for not writing but then I began to question why I needed an excuse. The truth is that it’s hard to write something meaningful every single day and therefore I started to look for excuses to simply avoid the challenge. Having a cold might slow you down but it does not incapacitate you. The real reason for my reaching into the excuse bucket last night was my own laziness. The good news is that I owned up to myself and sat down to write about it. It feels so much better to move forward knowing the reasons why you were slipping up compared to those feelings when you just give up and hide behind excuses. By getting out of bed early I was also gifted with another beautiful sunrise. What a great way to start the day. So wherever you are today take a few moments to think about the reasons why you might be struggling to meet your own challenges. Try to resist putting your hand into the bucket of excuses and look for solutions instead.
I think off writing as a craft
A means of recording thoughts
Transposed into written words
So others can read them
A meeting of minds
The pen is just a vehicle
Although today its rarely used
Computers provide the writing and reading tools
Writers now have access to many aids
Spell checking and grammar routines
Word rhyming searches
Poem idea generators
They all help the writer polish his/her work
I believe that is still part of the craft
But where does Artificial Intelligence (AI) fit into creative writing
AI is already being used to write essays
Some poetry and short stories are today produced by AI
Is this the beginning of the end for creative writers
Will future best sellers be produced by publishers using AI
Will poetry readers ask AI to deliver poems
What will happen to the craft of writing
Will writers be doomed to editing AI proofs
Chained to a computer in a dark room
Teaching robots how to write well
Shudder the thought
I am reaching out for some paper and a pen now
Back to basics
If it looks good I will scan it
Happy AI day
I close my eyes
Searching for darkness
Images flash through my mind
I plug my ears
Hoping for silence
Voices talk in my head
I sit on a soft chair
Wanting to relax
My back starts to ache
I stare at a blank computer screen
Fingers resting on the keyboard
Words start to fill the page
I stop writing to read what I have just written
It does not please me
Delete delete delete delete
I look out of the window
Waiting for inspiration
He never shows up
I turn on the TV
The guide has endless channels
None of them look interesting
I pick up a book
The story is so slow
I stop before the end of the first chapter
I stream relaxing jazz
Gently rocking in the chair
My foot starts tapping
Back to the computer
More words start flowing
I declare the delete key to be out of bounds
Finally success
John had always wanted to write a book
He thought about romantic fiction
There were too many of those around
Same for all those juicy crime thrillers
After so many false starts
He decided to tell his own life story
Not just a conventional autobiography
It had to have some meaningful life lesson
He reflected back on his own childhood
How hard it had been at school
He was not a particularly gifted scholar or athlete
Bullying haunted him almost daily
Somehow he managed to scrape into college
He he never really fitted in
He did not want to join the constant party crowd
The dedicated academics who never left the library were too boring
Dating was a challenge for him
He was intimidated by all the pretty girls
He dated the same plain Jane throughout college
They both knew it was a relationship of convenience
They did however get married soon after they started work
John worked hard and was a successful accountant
Then the kids started to arrive
The years seemed to fly by in a constant cycle of work and parenting
When his children eventually left home
Jane declared she was leaving him
She had finally found true love elsewhere
John was now alone and at a crossroads
John had reached the final chapter of his book
Describing how shrewd investments allowed him to retire early and become a writer
His biggest regret was wasting the first fifty years of his life
So he decided to travel and learn new things for the next fifty years
His publisher rejected the book because the first fifty years were so boring
John deleted all those chapters and expanded on the rest
His life message was do not wait forever because the end arrives fast
His book was a best seller
“Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else’s opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation.”
Wherever you are today, take a few moments to read this 19th century quote a few times over and then listen to those around you. How many of them are genuinely individual people with original and imaginative views?
Does a lazy poet who publishes an Oscar Wilde quote fall into this category or is he just being a Cheeky Monkey?
Her husband had been moody and detached
Ever since telling her about his favorite author
She was tempted to tell him everything
Living a secret life is hard lonely work
She had amassed a secret fortune
Far greater than he could ever earn
The next day he travelled to a three day conference
Opening the opportunity for her to meet Jack for dinner
Her agent sent a driver pick her up
Jack had chosen an expensive restaurant
The wine flowed and she was enthralled by him
His foundation of secret entrepreneurs was rich material for her new book
Jack held her hand and told her of his plans
He wanted her to meet his contacts in places like Rome, Paris and London
She would get to interview each of them in private
Jack and her would have lots of quality time together
Visiting all those romantic places was on her bucket list but she was trapped
She was both excited and reticent at the same time
Jack was a real gentleman and he could tell she was in quandary
Please think it over and email me your decision he said
She went home to an empty house but not sleep well that night
Her writing was fulfilling but she needed more in her life
Jack had appeared at exactly the right moment
Her heart was pounding as she hit send on her email to Jack
Her husband came back from the conference
She finished her second glass of wine
Staring at the man she married many years ago
It was time for her to confess
I have aways loved you and have something very important to tell you she said
He quickly replied that he had figured out long ago she was his favorite author
I hired an actor to play the roll of Jack he said, I am so glad you turned him down
She smiled, kissed him passionately and whispered start packing for our world cruise
Her agent told her all about Jack
He lived a regular life and worked a nine to five job
But had made a secret fortune inventing medical devices
And built up a network of similar people worldwide
Each of his contacts led simple lives
But were amassing fortunes from their clandestine activities
He had founded a charitable foundation
And his group were channeling Billions into it
Her agent wanted her to meet Jack
Jack’s secret life was exactly what she needed to research
She told him to set it up soon
Then rushed to buy food for tonight’s meal
Her husband was more grumpy than usual over dinner
She asked if work was worrying him
No its just as boring as ever he said
I have been trying to meet the author of my favorite books
She froze in anticipation of his next words
I guess she is too busy writing to meet boring old me he sighed
Perhaps best to let it drop she said
She is probably not the person you are expecting
He was unusually quiet the rest of the evening
He did not read in bed
He tossed and turned all night
She wondered if he was having an affair
She checked her emails
Her agent had set up a meeting with Jack
At a neutral venue with some back-up staff for her security
Researching was as much fun as writing for her
She met Jack the next day
Quite a handsome fellow with a charming manner
He insisted on telling his story in more detail over dinner
She hesitated but accepted his invitation
She decided not to ask him about the book in his briefcase
Waiting for him to bring it up
A few days passed before he said to her over dinner
I have been reading these great books
Oh really she said trying not to look too interested
An amazing author who tells colorful racy stories
You should read her books he insisted
Probably not my cup of tea she said dismissively
He fell asleep soon after dinner
She checked her emails
More fan mail from Jack
Saying he had an incredible story to tell her
She asked her agent to contact Jack
Thanking him for his fan mail
Maybe have one of his staff meet with him soon
Make sure he signs an NDA before I interview him
Her new book was going to be all about ordinary people
Who led extraordinary secret lives
Achieving amazing things in anonymity
Without ever wanting recognition or fame
Her husband woke up and turned off the TV
Time for bed he announced
They were soon side by side reading
She could not remember when they last had any intimacy
He was reading her latest novel
She felt uneasy when he read passages to her out loud
She was not sure how best to react to all this
A bit too explicit for my tastes she said
The next day she met with her agent at his office
Signing papers and vehemently resisting his requests to go public
Oh I had my assistant meet Jack he said
He has an amazing story to tell you
Cheeky Monkey Poetry 